Elizaveta
by Juliette Jameson
Summary: It's 1900 in Budapest. Gilbert Beilschmidt is an aspiring author who came to Hungary for a source of inspiration, which he finds in an entracing performer who goes by the name of Elizaveta. Moulin Rouge AU.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer (Applied to the entire story): I do not own Hetalia, Moulin Rouge, or any plays or song lyrics mentioned in this story. **

* * *

This is a story about the Moulin Rouge.

The most popular club in Budapest, built to be bubbling and bright and beckoning to any casual observer in the night. Moulin Rouge was full of promiscuous women with strange, alluring performances. Dancers, singers, prostitutes, poets. People from all corners of life, joining together to perform and observe in this one special club.

But the most important, the most breathtaking of them all, was the woman I love.

Elizaveta.

Equipped with the voice of an angel and a certain sort of temptation that only an enchantress could possess, my dazzling Hungarian would walk the stage and allure hundreds upon thousands of people. But I was the only one that ever held that affect on her. And for that I will always be grateful

This is the story of Moulin Rouge, a popular brothel in the heart of Budapest. A story about love and jealousy. And the story of how I came to realize that the greatest thing in life is simply to love and be loved in return.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Hey everyone! So this is my first Hetalia fanfiction here and I hope you like it. I watched Moulin Rouge a few days ago and was taken aback by how much I thought Gilbert and Elizaveta fit the roles. That being said, this doesn't exactly follow the plotline exactly, I've taken a few liberties with it but it shouldn't bother anyone too much. **

**Also, I am well aware that Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote **_**Sound of Music **_**but for sake of story, let's just assume that it was our characters. **

**Anyways, here is chapter one. I hope you like it. :)**

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_Budapest. 1900_

Gilbert Beilschmidt let out a loud cackle as he _finally _finished unpacking the last of his boxes. At last, he was here! In beautiful, shining Budapest. He could practically feel the months long writer's block dissipating as he looked over the stunning architecture, glimmering with the radiant promise of a new future.

Gilbert was a writer, an awesome one if he had to say so himself, but these past few months, he hadn't been able to write, at all. He didn't know why but one day he woke up, sat down to pen something, and couldn't think of anything at all. Perhaps it was the constant droning of the citizens outside as they tried to build a new country, maybe it was _non stop _chattering from his six year old brother, Ludwig, as he talked with passion about the *****unification (Though Gilbert did have to admit, for a six year old Ludwig was well researched!). Either way, the squashing of Gilbert's creative juices was practically a crime against all of humanity. Sure, none of his stuff had been published but the Prussian knew that one day when it was that the whole world would go crazy for it! People would act it out on stage, discuss it amongst themselves in Enlightenment-esque coffeehouses, countless copies of his works would be sold. But before that could happen, he had to get rid of this damn _writer's block. _

For months, he had looked for a solution. Tried everything, excessive sleeping, excessive drinking (Hey! All the tortured artists did it and their work turned out great), everything he could think of! Then suddenly, it hit him.

A change of scenery.

That's what he needed. A nice, refreshing change of scenery. He poured over locations for weeks. Where would he go? Paris was too crowded and he'd be damned if he went all the way to _Russia. _Vienna was out of the question too (Gilbert simply did not like Austrians. It had a lot to do with Silesia, which was a _Prussian _province, as far as he was concerned). He had almost contemplated going to Britain when it hit him. Budapest.

Budapest was perfect.

It was well enough known that he could count on there being plenty of people and beautiful buildings but not as crowded and crime riddled as he assumed cities like Paris would be. Besides, he wanted adventure! And Hungary, full of strange customs (And a strange language) was the perfect chance for it.

If it was adventure he wanted, then Gilbert had come to the right place. For the moment that he had flopped back onto his bed to relax, a man fell through his ceiling.

"_Me cago en tu puta madre!" _The man swore, in a language that Gilbert assumed to be romantic, "_Joder! Que te folle-" _The man must have noticed Gilbert watched in astonishment, for he jumped up instantaneously and stopped swearing, "Oh! Hello there!" He said, in accented Hungarian (Not that the little that Gilbert had learned in Prussia was perfect either), "I'm sorry about that-"

"Annntonioooooooooo!" A cry came outside of GIlbert's door before a strange blonde man burst through it, "How many times have I told you not to jump on the bed? The floor is much too-" He stopped when he saw Gilbert, looking on into the scene in an entertained curiosity, "Ah! Hello mon ami! You must be the new tenant. I am Francois, I live in the apartment right above you with my associate here, Antonio,"

Ah. Spanish. That would explain the accent, "Helo! I am the awesome Gilbert!" He said, with a somewhat cocky grin, "What were you two doing up there? It must have been just as awesome as I am if you broke through a floor!"

"Well," Francois began, with a pleased grin, "Toni and I were rehearsing for a play!"

"A play?!" Gilbert exclaimed with excitement. Yes! Actors were always exciting, "What about?"

Antonio answered with a bright smile, "We don't know!"

Gilbert was startled for a second, "You don't know?"

"Nope!"

"Then how are you rehearsing?"

"Perhaps," Francois began, "I misphrased. We are actually trying to write a play,"

Write a play? It was practically handed to Gilbert on a silver platter, "I'm actually an author," He announced with pride, "Perhaps I could be of assistance?"

"That would be fantastic!" Antonio chimed, bouncing excitedly, "You must come at once! We need your help!"

"Sure!" Gilbert answered without a moment's hesitation. Francois and Antonio (Toni?) were pretty cool. It's not like he was doing anything anyways, he might as well go help them out. Besides, it sounded like fun!

* * *

Play writing was not fun.

Correction. Play writing with _this_ bunch was not fun.

At first, it had just been Gilbert, Antonio, and Francois. It had been fun, easy, and they had even managed to get most of it done. However, after about an hour, the rest of the actors had come to join them in Antonio and Francois' flat. They were two Italian brothers, Feliciano and Lovino, with sunkissed skin and messy hair. They were almost identical, except for one strand of hair sticking out on opposite sides of their head. While they were mirrors of each other in appearance, they were stark constrasts in personality. Where Feliciano was more energetic and happy, Lovino was angry and, at times, violent. Gilbert didn't mind Feliciano, he was actually kind of nice to hang out with, but once Lovino was added to the mix, it got harder to get _anything _done.

"The hills are vibrant! It sounds so much better!" Lovino said, throwing his hands up, "_Che bastardi..." _He said, in what Gilbert assumed was Italian, "You know I'm right,"

They were currently arguing about a song lyric. The play they were writing was about some nun in Switzerland, or something. Supposedly, she was supposed to be singing about her love for music and nature. Gilbert honestly had no idea, he had been surveying the (rather large... How did Francois and Antonio afford an apartment like this on a playwright's salary?) apartment. It's not like he could help.

"How about," Francois began, with a mischievous tone, "The hills are erotic-"

"_Assimo! Lei e- _She's a _nun!_"

"Just saying, it might sound-"

"It's not _that _kind of a play!"

"We don't know that yet-"

_The hills are alive with the sound of music. _

The thought hit Gilbert suddenly. His head snapped up, breaking him out of a trance of boredom. There it was! Awesome! It sounded awesome and he had nothing to lose if they didn't like it. It wasn't _his _play after all.

"The hills are alive with the sound of-" He tried to begun but was tragically cut off.

"_Cazzo! _Why am I even working with a pervert with you?"

"It was a joke, why don't you take it like one?"

"Now now," Antonio said, stepping into the fight, "I'm sure that Lovi meant-"

"For the last time, it's _Lovino,"_

"Aw, come on _fratello," _Now Feliciano had stepped in, "What did we say about being nice,"

"Fuck of Feliciano,"

"That wasn't very nice, _fratello,"_

"Do I look like-"

He was cut off as Gilbert finally decided to take action, belting the line from the top of his lungs before it disappeared, "_The hills are alive with the sound of music!" _

A silence cut through the room as everyone digested the new line. Gilbert smirked. They totally thought it was awesome, he could tell. Who wouldn't think that his work was awesome? No one, that's who.

"_Bellissimo!" _Feliciano exclaimed, jumping up in excitement, "Gilbert, you are a genius!"

"The hills are alive... With the sound of music..." Francois said, scribbling it all down, "With songs they have sung for a thousand years!"

Lovino paused before hesitatingly starting, "The hills fill my heart with the sound of music,"

"My heart wants to sing... every song it hears!" Antonio finished.

Gilbert smirked proudly at them. All of this was the product of his one line. Less than one day in Budapest and he had basically written a play! Or, written one line for it. This was awesome progress, awesome progress indeed.

"Oh! We'll have this ready to perform at _Moulin Rouge _by tonight!"

The name caught Gilbert's attention. Moulin... Rouge? What on earth was that? It sounded interesting, although the name sounded French and not Hungarian...

"Moulin Rouge?" The Prussian asked.

Feliciano heard his question and turned around, an excited twinkle in his eyes, "Moulin Rouge! It's the club that Francois and Toni own together," Ah, that would explain the apartment, "Hey, Mr. Gilbert! You should come with us tonight!"

"_Oui!" _Francois nodded in agreement, looking over at him, "We'll even let you in for free. It's the least we can do to thank you for writing that line for us,"

"Definitely," Antonio said, "You can hang out with us too. We'll show you around. Hey," He laughed, nudging Francois, "Maybe we'll even let him meet Elizaveta,"

"Hey!" Lovino cut in, "You guys are going to lose money if you let him meet her for free. She's basically the only reason you're club is still running. Not to mention that she'll kick your ass,"

"Lizzie's not that bad!" Feliciano said, "She's nice to me. She only doesn't like you because you called her a whore that one time, Lovi,"

"Hey, I'm just being honest-"

"So, Gilbert," Francois said, talking over Lovino, seemingly just to annoy the angry Italian, "Do you want to come? You'll get to see Elizaveta's routine and everything,"

"_Ja, _I'll come," Gilbert answered. Hey, it wasn't like he was going to sit down and write right away, he needed inspiration first. Maybe this elusive Elizaveta would give it to him, whomever she was, "What time?"

And with those five words, Gilbert had signed away his fate forever.

* * *

*** At this point in European history, 'Germany' is a relatively new country. Most Prussians actually didn't like the idea of Germany and did not like the fact that their government helped to create it. (I could be wrong. Don't hesitate to let me know if I am). **

**I'd love some constructive criticism, if you guys have got any. I also apologize for any unintentional spelling or grammar errors. **

**Review please? **


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